


Anomaly

by Bellajuku



Category: Finder, Finder Series, Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, You're my love prize in Viewfinder, loveprize
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellajuku/pseuds/Bellajuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihito was an anomaly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anomaly

_**AN: So this is just a drabble about Asami's thoughts on Akihito and a little about his past relationships as I imagine them. I feel like Asami would be a magnet for gold diggers.** _

**_Please read, review and enjoy~_ **

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_Akihito was an anomaly._

It was strange to Asami- strange but fascinating- how little it took to please Akihito. The younger man was rarely vocal about his own satisfaction, but Asami knew. He could always read those honey colored eyes, even if they wouldn't meet his.

His happiness stemmed from the smallest gestures, simple things that Asami wouldn't think twice about: lunch in the city, a movie on the couch... mundane activities earned him the brightest smiles; moments he didn't find particularly romantic prompted the deepest blushes.

He went along with extravagant dates, but his polite smiles over the food in five-star restaurants weren't quite as captivating as the animalistic noises he made while scraping the bottom of his cup of  _Top Ramen._

Akihito didn't care to receive expensive gifts and wasn't interested in designer labels. He was mortified by the idea of being seen in the limo and accepted rides to work only on the coldest, wettest of days. His idea of a good restaurant was one where the menu came with crayons and he had to be bribed or coerced into any establishment with a dress code.

Akihito didn't give a shit about his net worth.

He had never been with someone who didn't care before, had never been with someone who was interested in being with  _him_ , not his bank account. It was endlessly endearing but it was entirely new; none of his precious involvements had even begun to prepare him for what he would feel in response to genuine affection.

The ranks of his former lovers were filled with vicious little beauties plucked out of clubs and lounges around Tokyo. His tastes always steered him towards men but there were women too, silly, flippant things with tiny dogs and big credit cards bills. The men weren't much different actually, except that they spent his money on cars rather than clothes.

_He couldn't even imagine the fight that would ensue if he tried to buy Akihito a car._

That was the deciding factor for all of them though: money. He could please any of them at whim with the signing of a check, the upping of a credit limit. It was child's play keeping them happy.

He'd never allowed anyone to live with him though; he knew they would have driven him out of his mind. No, he'd set them up in their own little apartment somewhere conveniently close and they'd live their own little lives, mercifully separate from his.

 _"I don't believe anyone actually_ lives  _like this." Only Akihito could say something like that without sounding even remotely impressed. "You're living in_ Barbie's Tokyo Dream House _."_

Asami had no misconceptions about his previous pseudo-relationships; they were loveless, barely even tolerable. Each partner was little more than a simpering, opportunistic  _beast_  who sat in his lap and rubbed his shoulders and threw shrieking tantrums when he wouldn't increase their funds.

Of course, that was where it always ended. When he cut them off, the clock started ticking. It was a few hours at the most before they revolted, shedding their saccharine exterior only to reveal what he'd known was there all along.

 _He would give Akihito_ anything _, spend fortunes on him without a second thought, but Akihito would never forgive him for thinking he could be bought with something as cheap as money. Money isn't love._

If he was honest with himself- and Asami always was- he'd admit he took a sick sort of satisfaction in watching them fall to pieces as they realized just how little they truly had without him.

If he lied to himself- which Asami never did- he would say he wasn't even a little disappointed to watch them cry over his money. He'd say he never even once wished for it to be him they would miss.

They wouldn't miss him though and he wouldn't miss them. They were over him by the time they reached the door, back on their feet and on to the next bottomless bank account.

It wasn't that he begrudged them the money; as much as their personalities irked him, Asami knew he himself was difficult to be around. The money was a placation, a consolation prize to make up for his own callousness, his own indifference.

 _Game over, thank you for playing_.

It was tiresome though, being around people who were so endlessly, openly, shamelessly trying to take advantage of him. There was no comfort in sleeping beside a person who would sell his soul for the contents of your bank account.

_There was comfort in sleeping beside Akihito._

Asami had never considered himself in need of comforting; comfort sure, in the physical sense, as evidenced by the designer suits, the luxury penthouse. These were creature comforts though, emblems of his wealth and status, practically necessities in his line of work.

Emotional comfort was a concept he had all but lost touch with before Akihito. The boy would deny emotion to the bitter end but the fact was he exuded it against his own will. Every fluctuation of his expression told a story; every shift of his body betrayed his thoughts. His care was palpable, his desire to connect amusingly obvious. He felt it late into the night when the boy was too tired to maintain his prickly front and would fit himself into the curve of his body, small hands resting against Asami's arms where they curled around his waist. He felt it long after Akihito fell asleep, when he'd turn in his arms to face him and settle with his nose pressed into his neck, his leg slung over his hip.

He'd felt it from the beginning, but he hadn't trusted it until nearly a year later.

He'd wasted so much time watching Akihito, searching for his angle. Sure he'd initiated their involvement, forced Akihito into life and into his bed on more than one occasion, but months in, when he began returning home to meals and conversation, his own cynical mind saw only red flags.

Was this some ploy to set him at ease? Had he somehow turned his feral little lover into one of his cunning predecessors, pandering to him in hope of compensation?

It wasn't until he'd gotten to know Akihito better that he'd understood. The boy tried to tell him that it was his way of paying rent but Asami knew better; it was his way showing affection. After all, his words were often inelegant, flustered, but his heart was always true and his actions displayed that with startling clarity.

Everything Akihito did for him was no less than an acknowledgment of their relationship. Akihito didn't cook because he was told to, or because he'd be kicked out if he didn't; Akihito cooked because he cared whether or not Asami ate.

Which left Asami wondering  _why?_

Because their venomous beginning should have left Akihito with more than just a bitter taste in his mouth; it should have poisoned him against Asami permanently. Anyone else would have carried that anger with them for the rest of their lives, no matter how well Asami treated them later and yet Akihito biggest resentment of him seemed to be his own security team which was there specifically to prevent things like that from  _ever happening again._

They had fights, but they were mostly about said security team and despite all his shouting, Akihito's words towards him had lost much of their viciousness. He was still every bit the firebrand he'd fallen in love with, but his thoughts toward Asami seemed to have softened. He could start a sentence by calling him a bastard and finish it by telling him he wasn't getting enough sleep. It was disconcerting, but not unappreciated, not by a long shot.

In the end, it was just Akihito. No matter how angry he got, no matter how hurt he felt, his compassion never wavered. Asami worried over him because of it- because how much was he willing to forgive?- but mostly he was just grateful, because if Akihito wasn't who he was, he could have destroyed Asami by now.

After all, Akihito held all the strings between them, even if he didn't know it. Asami knew though, Kirishima too probably; his secretary had always been preternaturally observant and he was around the two of them more than anyone else. If Akihito wanted revenge, he could have it. He had Asami's trust and more than that, he had his heart. It was hard and shrunken and black in places, but it was all his and he could shatter it whenever he wanted.

If Akihito was aware of this, he certainly didn't abuse his power. He used it mostly on the little things he so enjoyed, like getting Asami to stay up late and watch movies with him or just to stay in bed a little longer on those mornings when Asami left him well before sunrise.

Such requests were selfless though and Asami found he enjoyed those instances of gentle intimacy just as much as he enjoyed the more intense moments they shared; they were yet another experience that was tied uniquely to Akihito. No one else had  _ever_ evoked the tenderness that Akihito so easily kindled in him; the feeling was pure, untainted by those who had come and gone. It was about the only  _pure_ thing left in Asami, the only emotion that didn't have some black and jagged edge hidden out of sight.

It was born of Akihito, created and maintained by him, and it carried with it all of his innate purity and strength. It was the only pure thing strong enough to exist inside of Asami, one bright light surrounded by darkness.

It was an anomaly.

_a·nom·a·ly_

_n. pl. a·nom·a·lies_

_1\. Deviation or departure from the normal or common order, form, or rule._

_2\. One that is peculiar, irregular, abnormal, or difficult to classify_

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_**Thank you for reading, don't forget to let me know what you think~** _


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